Rebirth
by candycanepower
Summary: In the midst of war, she cogitates. The Vietnam War was a terrifying experience. Vietnam was torn on what to follow - her heart or her mind. What is love and what is logic? Hints: Vietnam/America, Vietnam/France, Vietnam/Russia. Oneshot for now.


**CCP:** Here with another one-shot angst! Oh yeah!

**Disclaimer: **I did _not_ put any of my personal political feelings into this. This is based on Vietnam's view. I also do not own Hetalia or these characters.

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(1) 17th Parallel - The area where Vietnam was split, cleanly in two. In the Central Region close to the city of Huế.

(2) A speech was given by Hồ Chí Minh before the First Indochina War (French-Vietnamese War). It was based off America's Constitution. He really admired the American Government and used that as fuel for Vietnam's independence.

(3) Ðiên Biên Phú - The battle between the French and the Vietnamese (Northern). The battle in which France admitted his humiliating defeat and that ended pretty bad for him. He was slaughtered here.

(4) The Geneva Conference - A conference held in Switzerland to declare Vietnam's independence. To compensate, France was in charge of South Vietnam, thus splitting it up into two between Communists and non-Communists.

(5) France and America were against North Vietnam during the Vietnam War until he pulled out.

(6) Agent Orange - A terrible chemical that America released into North Vietnam. It is the reason why many many children and people are deformed, have cancer, and died at that time. The crops and the soil also died with the affected people.

(7) Paris Peace Accords - An agreement for America to pull out and be sent home. This was about a year before the war actually ended. South Vietnam was left alone to fight.

(8) "Chào anh" - Saying hello respectfully in Vietnamese, addressing the older male as 'anh". "Anh" is commonly used for politeness or just because the other person is/seems older than you by a few years.

Note: The Phoenix, in Vietnamese tradition, is supposed to represent the 'woman' or 'feminine' side whereas the Dragon represents the 'masculine' side. In Western belief, I suppose the Phoenix also symbolizes rebirth from ashes (yeah, Harry Potter). I wrote this after watching a short movie about the Vietnam War and the horrors of it. I wasn't really affected with it but I just couldn't stop thinking about the relationship between America and Vietnam. Tragic, really. Hopefully you guys will understand the mind and heart thing.

In case you didn't know. The Mind represents Democratic Government of North Vietnam (Communist) while the Heart represents the Republic of South Vietnam. I wrote this because I felt like it links to me.

There is always conflict with what we think and what we feel. It is hard to choose what is important. Apologies if there is any bad grammar/spelling mistakes. If my History is wrong, please correct me.

Reviews are nice~

Vietnam had no idea what she was going up against. Life seemed so bleak, twisted, and surreal. She sat alone, a cigarette in her lips, as she leaned against the desk in her tent in the 17th parallel - the Demilitarized Zone (1). Papers and battle plans were littered on the floor, both from the North and the South. Secretly, she would write plans for the North and not tell America and vice versa to Russia. Her once neat writing was scribbled in a hurry in worn out pages. The lamp was dim - slowly dying as she sucked in the cigarette. Nothing was going on. A perfect time to reminisce.

In front of a crowd of her people, she sat on the right side of Hồ Chí Minh as he said those enlightening words, "All men are created equal. The Creator has given us certain inviolable Rights: the right to Life, the right to be Free, and the right to achieve Happiness."(2) She believed in that. Those were America's words. She believed in America, but he didn't help her.

Then, she remembered smiling after pointing her gun at France.

At that time, she laughed blatantly at the thought that 'Ðiên Biên Phú' (3) will forever be embedded in France's head.

Defeated, he sat on the floor limply in front of her towering body. "That's what you get, France. I'm not Indochina - your Indochina. Forget it. I am Vietnam." Her body was resonating with power and pride when those words escaped her lips. Yes, she honestly thought that her mind and heart will finally be at ease with each other. Then he left, with his tail between his legs.

She felt as if it was only a day ago that she wished for independence - her soul rejoiced with the melody of her salvation. The Geneva Conference (4). Although she did no get what she entirely wanted, she was still promoted from a mere colony to an actual country. He still existed in her home.

Yet, France wanted her heart. He always wanted her heart and never cared about what she thought. She would be lured by his half-hearted kisses, sweet words of nothing, and suave smiles. Inside, she rejected everything about him. Spitefully, she would curse him, but her heart would flutter with every touch.

The faint memory was bittersweet on her tongue. Oh, how happiness can fade away in an instant without any warning. At that time, she had only wished to get closer to Russia, for he was the one who helped her gain Independence. She became Communist just to gain his support - that was her practical side. Hồ Chí Minh, like her, probably did not care of what system they absorbed - they just wanted Independence.

Why was it that her heart still longed for France? Why was he still there?

But she remembered that she smiled at Russia too - a genuine smile. When he told her that he would help, she felt uplifted. She wanted to kick out France so she could entirely devote herself to Russia - no one else. Unfortunately, nobody wished to help her back then.

Her admiration for America diminished after he rejected her plea. He did not want to help her until he realized that she was becoming friendly with the then Soviet Russia.

He just had to intervene. France just had to split her up and join forces with America. (5)

What was it that America cared about her hanging around with Russia anyway? Right - it was because of Communism. She suspected that he did not care about her and her people - only Communism. It was because of that Cold War that America and Russia had with each other.

It was ridiculous. It was just an economic system.

Vietnam rubbed her temples as she exhaled painfully, her throat throbbing. Her cigarette fell from her lips. What was this? She was still split in two - not physically, but mentally. A bipolar disorder. In her mind, she wished to follow Russia and his way, and yet, her heart yearned for America's way (France left a long time ago so she didn't need to worry about him).

The way he smiled like that with his thumbs up gave her confidence. The way he whistled to the song, 'Star Spangled Banner' was lovely. The way his foreign sea blue eyes would twinkle like the stars would make her heart beat faster. On the other hand, the lack of oxygen to her mind made her hateful. She thought he was stupid - that capitalist, selfish fool.

Representing her country as one entity was not easy. Constantly, she would move from North to South.

In the North, she would contact Russia via telephone or write letters to him. She would take to him for hours and she would just feel so mentally at ease. So charmed to listen to him.

In the South, she would actually meet America. Talk to him. Laugh at him. Look up to him. Her heart felt at ease.

There was no where to be neutral. It was a full-scale war between the North and the South. She realized that she was a conning both of them. Cheating on both of them. She was in the middle - her heart and her mind rallied against each other. What was better? To be practical or to be romantic?

One day, she knew she had to betray one of them. That one day, she would have to point a gun at one of them. That time was drawing near, closer with every fallen corpse as the rolling thunder plundered her land. Those were _his _bombs. They were _her _people. Those flames engulfed _her _forest, _her _beauty! Agent Orange (6)?! How dare he...

Ruefully, she smashed the once-burning cigarette with her boot and then violently grated it across the ground before her.

Ashes.

The phone rang. Nonchalantly, she took a seat in from of the machine and then picked up. It was America.

"Hey Viet! Though I'd just say hi."

"Hello."

"Oh you know you can say much more than that!" His chuckled vibrantly. "See, I like to tell you 'thanks' and 'good luck'! You know the kids back at my place? They're going crazy because boys over here, you know? Thanks for agreeing to the Paris Peace Accords (7)! I'm going to leave soon so... work it out, okay? Though I wont be physically around, I'm still supporting Democracy! Yeah!" Lively as ever, she presumed.

Vietnam listlessly replied, "I see." At least his population was not dying. At least his soil was not being tarnished. Her eyes filled with searing hatred.

"You're awfully quiet today, Viet! You're sounding a little different. Things rough over there? Man I didn't even leave yet!"

"I want to see you then. One last time." She stated softly, her tenderness a clear facade.

Then she heard the sounds of helicopters, its blades could be clearly heard as it sliced through the air. "Sorry Viet! I'm actually leaving right now!" He interjected. "I'm going back home. Good luck to you! Tell me the good news later, okay? As long as the side I fought with wins, I'm cool!"

She knew that he must have been depressed that he was pulling out of a war. She knew that it probably hurt his ego.

"I'll support and help you in any other way, okay? Just tell me! I'll help, I swear!"

Another promise.

"Okay... good bye. Chào anh (8)."

She heard him holler to someone else before saying, "Yeah yeah! Chao Ahnh to you too! Later!"

He hung up. Left alone in silence. A broken smile formed on her lips as she stood up from her seat. He was leaving. Just like how they all did.

Just like how China, Japan, France, and Mongolia did when they wanted to take her with force. In the end, they would all leave whether she liked it or not.

Without any emotion in her eyes, Vietnam walked over to a large vertical mirror. There she was, a Vietnamese beauty. Although she had masculine features, she had beautiful earth-brown eyes that brought out the feminine touch of her. Her curves, her highlands, showed that she was a woman.

Then, she was less of a woman - she was a war-hardened soldier in her special uniform that represented neither side, but the whole country in an imaginary unity. Her complexion was darker - still pale, but she was stricken with war. Her lips were livid, pursed and silent. She never fired a gunshot at anyone - although she was trained to - because she would be shooting her people. The experience with war aged her. Her eyes were becoming bloodshot, silently seething in the dim light.

She was a living dead.

Cautiously, she took her handgun from her holster. It felt strange holding the gun again. Vietnam pointed the gun at reflection - the woman who had the exact same expression as her. Both of the eyes were distraught, weary, and determined to stop the madness.

The madness known as the civil war - kin against kin, blood against blood. That is insane. Hell on Earth.

Her arm was shaking as she pointed the gun at the other's heart. The reflection's gun pointed at her shoulder. Breathless.

A wound in the shoulder is not fatal. She furrowed her brows and then pulled the trigger.

A piercing cry. It shattered. Every memory fell with the shards of broken glass. Vietnam stood unharmed.

Now she knew what to do. It was time to unify. Time was running short. She thought she was a fool to be lukewarm, for everything was so clear to her now.

Silently, she put her handgun back on its holster and then stepped out of the tent. The night was humid and ominously silent. The dreary moon hung among the invisible stars. The poison of the night was the smoke that diffused together from both skies.

That night, a final page was written in her journal: 'Farewell, heart. You have only made it harder for me. No time to be romantic. In order to live, you must be pragmatical. Independent. That is the way the world works.'

Then, her tent was in flames. She walked away from it with a rifle strapped on to her back.

Ashes.

The fire of the Phoenix spiraled within her soul.

__

Rebirth

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End file.
